


Our Bilgewater Demons

by Tawreline



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Be patient, Bilgewater (League of Legends), Bilgewater - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Character Development over Time, Demacia (League of Legends), Demons, Enemies to Enemies to Lovers, Extremely long I hope, F/M, Folklore, Gambling, League of Legends Regions, Lore-heavy, M/M, May get a Second part, Pirates, Runeterra, Sea Monsters, Slow Burn, Tags will be added, Underwater Horror, Valoran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawreline/pseuds/Tawreline
Summary: Bilgewater is a haven for smugglers, marauders, and the unscrupulous, where fortunes are made and ambitions shattered in the blink of an eye. For those fleeing justice, debt, or persecution, it is a city of new beginnings; no one on the twisted streets of Bilgewater cares about your past.Hence why a runaway troublemaker by the name of Aegea decides to blend into the murky town and escape her own demons, only to discover a cheating card dealer and begin the journey of transformation, haunted by a folk tale of a Captain-killin' demon.
Relationships: Malcolm Graves/Twisted Fate, Pyke/Original Character, Pyke/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. Pretty Landlubber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter - faily short as it is an introduction!
> 
> EDITED & CHECKED: 12/10/2020

It was so entirely different from Demacia.  
No longer did the high white marble stand like mountains and gates, the houses neatly rationed through the city to make space for passers-by, no, this was a giant anthill with houses sprinkled all about, crooked and dark with mossy walls. Days' worth of riding to this pithole didn't seem to pay off as much as she would like it to.  
Boathouses guarded the dangerous waters, limestone platforms positioned like the watchtowers in Demacia. She ventured deeper into the town, leading her ride, wearily scanning the area as the horse clopped close by.

Oh gods, the _smell_.  
A sickening, unholy stench hung over the place, much like the dark clouds above, almost trapping the air in a box. The newcomer gagged, along with the mare's whinny of displeasure. In all honesty, what did she expect from the seafood-dependent wasteland? There was very little she knew of Bilgewater, but one thing she knew was that there must be at least some type of tavern or resting place. Somehow, Aegea prayed to find ways to earn her keep. But the hard work's tomorrow's work.

As lonely and nauseous as she felt, she kept scanning the area for any discrete signs or frankly a living soul. Very little light emitted from the houses, which could probably mean this was a ghost town, or that people are obviously asleep at this hour. Plenty of fish to gut in the day ahead. Each step accommodated with a quiet squelch of the seaweed and mud, drowning out the hoofsteps.

A building came into sight, something that stood out in contrast to the other shoebox houses, "The White Whale" painted in crude, chipping paint. Above the saloon doors, an outrageously huge whale head hung like a mascot for the lightless establishment it represented. The girl put two and two together, and damn near retched at the source of the smell. Nevertheless, she spared an apologetic look to her mare, fastening the leads around a fence close by the entrance. She'll be safe, right?

The White Whale was dark and likely empty, but it was expected. The moon, if it could be seen, was edging towards the horizon to give way to the sun, and the girl gave one last glance to check her back and swung the doors open. 


	2. Hardwokin' Mornin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our traveller's first morning in the town of Bilgewater as new things are learned about the way they do things there, including forgetting the cultural currency.  
> Featuring the first folk song from the bard siblings of Bilgewater.

Quiet drops drowned out the uncanny silence of the town.

It felt wrong to barge into a closed business, but maybe staying in the streets for too long wasn't such a good idea. So, silently, she passed the creaky floorboards and eventually wandered into the bedspaces, each door labelled in numbers.

An empty chamber. A soft bed and after closing the door soundlessly, it took less than a minute before she drifted off.  
She'll explain it to the tavernkeeper in the morning.

Few rays of the golden sun disturbed the exhausted traveller; an annoyed groan from beneath the stuffy covers acknowledges the start of a new day, and she emerges - hair messy and groggy but at the very least with a roof over her head. Now to the casual business.  
She'd figured to start, her Demacian clothing had to be rid. A few dingy outfits hung in the limited closet, though with a few crafty moves, a regular attire was constructed. Just common boots, tight leggings, an overly revealing shirt and a few pieces of fabric to remedy any holes and damages.  
'A ship, a hat and a gun, 'n I'm all set for a new life, hm." she joked to herself, tucking the old Demacian garments into her travel pack. And now, to meet the owner.

Unsurprisingly, the White Whale had a busy day - from each corridor customers emerged from their rooms, also awakened by the brightness outside. From the corners of her eyes, she could see decently-dressed ladies fanning themselves and twirling in fine silk all the way down to the bar. The men that followed suit didn't look that poor either; sometimes she'd even glimpse a shiny gold pocket watch or a ruby-embedded ring. She followed the crowd onto the first floor, scanning the surroundings for a barkeep. 

A small band had emerged on a small stage, all intimidating men, save for the lady with a vivid skirt. Almost enchanting. They'd pull out a fiddle, an aged accordion and a third man delicately prepares his violin, while their female companion gently dances around the dining guests. Choosing to wait and spectate, Aegea takes the furthest table and hugs the wall as she watches the stage. Eventually, after the crowd hushes and focuses on the breakfast, the music begins.

It was such a cheery tune, combined with the woman's energetic voice and lively choreography - the group laughed along as they played a tale about the comedic horrors of Bilgewater.

_"And there died a fisherman,  
where the terror was born,  
betrayed 'n alone, aye!_

_A Cap'ns got only one thing to fear!  
The bloodharbour ripper,  
don't make no whimper,  
else he'll slither upon ye ship!_

_So next time ye wander,  
remember to ponder,  
if ye out here alone."_

The song finished with the band bowing in gratitude to the cheers from onlookers. Aegea smiled and clapped, though not particularly wanting to be seen. What do you know, the culture of the new town is slowly revealing itself. Even if it is... dead sailors.

"Could I getcha anythin', miss?" a solid voice spoke, slightly spooking the traveller. She whipped to look to her left, where a young waitress raised a brow at her.  
-"O-Oh, right, " she stammered, remembering the promise she made to herself when, by textbook definition, trespassing earlier, "could I see the owner? If it ain't too much trouble."  
"She ain't here, but I can pass a message on, if you'd like." her accent was oddly southern and laden with exhaustion. A thought occurred to the newcomer. If the barkeep isn't here, maybe she could stall time and figure out her next move before getting kicked into the streets entirely.  
"Remind me again, miss, uh?" Aegea began,  
-"Grace."  
"Grace, right. What... is erm, the price of a room?"  
The young waitress looked a little confused, brushing the dark hair behind her ear in thought,  
-"Could swear t'was about two krakens."

Foreign currency. She'd forgotten about those, and attempting to pay with Demacian crowns would only attract attention to her purse. Quickly trying to think, the girl remembered what she learned about the Eyries - the highest levels of the city. Also known to be home for taverns and dice houses. There must be some way to exchange there, right?  
-"s'cuse me, miss...?" The poor confused girl tapped her shoulder, trying to make sure the 'guest' was alright. Zoning back in, Aegea jumped from her seat and thanked the girl, rushing outside to her mare.


	3. Twist of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon's Dance - a dice house, where fortunes are made and lives destroyed. The traveller hopes for the former as she takes her Demacian coins in a brawl of luck against a mysterious triumphant victor.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and you can follow me on Twitter @Tawreline for updates x

The mare met her owner with a disgruntled snort. The air during the night wasn't the same for both of them; one under covers and one having to wake up to seagull waste pouring down as the city bustled. The girl apologetically smiled and combed the sleek coat, not taking too long. A first exciting quest awaited them at the dice houses of the Eyeries.

It was extremely awkward getting weird looks from passers-by as a girl in peasant's clothing rode by on a horse not even the greediest pirates could dream of getting on deck. Still, she loved her pony and showed it so through her elegantly braided mane and comfy Demacian saddle. Galloping past more decently-designed buildings, the unmissable sign of a gambling house showed itself in the form of a golden plaque that glittered in the noon sun.  
"Demon's Dance. Lovely, huh?" she mumbled, talking to no one but her horse, who whinnied at the thought of being hitched until gods know how long, but she wasn't one to complain for long, and Aegea patted her, "I **promise** , I'll buy you some whey oats. Stay safe, Alba." The girl received a snort of good luck and a throb of confidence as she strode through the open doors.

The first thing she could distinguish is the smell; sweat and beer and metallic smell of coins. But the yells and the laughs quickly overwhelmed the senses. The dice house was fuller than expected, with each table having its own attraction and a pool of gamblers counting their bids. The traveller glanced around, curiously wondering which counter to explore first. There was pool table, the emptiest one, followed by a few dice roller tables, with wealthy men and women chortling as their cash piles grew bigger, and their opponents grew more frustrated.

But the most inviting attraction, she felt, was the card dealers' corner. She knew a fair bit of poker from the taverns over at Demacia, though she hoped the rules would be less strict here. One more thing she noticed was that everyone present had some form of a weapon ready at their belt, whether it was guns, a dagger or a cutlass, vulnerability was out of the question in the palace of gambling.

For some time, she stood leaning against a pillar and watched, as countless men tried their luck with a mysterious dealer; who looked comedic both hooded and with a wide hat, though his fingers made no mistake as he fought his way into their purses. Aegea observed with wonder as each of the men sat, lost, bitterly threw the contents of their coin bags into a mountain that only grew larger with time. The technique of the cardmaster made her afraid to try her luck, but like many others, her mind was suddenly changed when the victor stood cried out,  
"Anyone who challenges me, " he smirked as all eyes were on him, "gets all I've won. Fair' n square, if you dare."

The silence, only disturbed by customers shuffling through each other to get a look at the potential jackpot, gasping at its mass.  
Before anyone could snap out of the fortunate fantasists' daze, Aegea slammed into the seat and leaned close to the smug opponent.  
"A purse of Demacian crowns is what I offer."  
-"Demacian currency? Now, don't get me started on how to exchange such coins in Bilge-"  
"They're really good in exchange rates right now!" she whisper-exclaimed, keen to get her hands on the hill of gold tucked under the man's arm.  
-"Alright, then! We've got a challenger, ladies 'n gents!" 

Aegea frowned, wondering why he had to make it such a public event. Anxiously considering what reactions she'll receive if she loses her only gold to a dumb wager. On the other hand, knocking this guy's ego in front of a huge crowd is bound to be satisfying. By the time he'd finished speaking, everyone left their respective tables to view the life-deciding game.

"Would you do the honours?" the cocky man handed her the deck of cards, and Aegea could swear as the deck left his hands, a glow faded. Were they marked or something? She'd separated the deck, shuffling it and showing off with a flashy trick until she was certain all cards were mixed up.

"So, um, rules?" she asked, beating herself for only asking now.  
-"A simple game of paper, rock and water, dear, " he answered, outshining her tricks with his own as the onlookers cheered, "just play any card and if you do so correctly, the gold is yours." The shit-eating grin was back on his slim face and the girl did not like this one bit. Gut instinct told her to know better than to trust a Bilgewater gambler who 'mysteriously' won every single game this afternoon. But hey, what's a reward without risk?  
"Okay."

The deck was separated once more and each of them got three cards. She'd gotten two papers and a rock. So, it's likely he has at least one water. But does he have two papers, or two rocks, or maybe even one of each. Before she could decide all the probabilities, he'd already begun counting.  
"One, "  
Paper, or rock? What beats rock?  
"Two, "  
Water beats paper, so...  
"Three!"

"Ouch, love. Tough luck."  
-"What?"  
She slowly opened her eyes and looked at the cards. She was right. He had a water and two rocks. Unfortunately, he didn't pick the rocks.  
Aegea stared in disbelief at the water card in dull blue, forgetting how to breathe as her stomach twisted into a knot as the crowd giggled and snorted at her demise.  
"Twist of fate, one would say." the man leered, waving his hand in a requesting motion, "Now, my winnings, if you please."

"N-no." she whimpered.  
-"Pardon me?"  
"No, I can't give you everything."  
The crowd erupted in a burst of sadistic laughter, as the girl sunk into the chair as if she wished the ground would split apart and swallow her.  
-"Sorry, sugar, there are rules. An' you **chose** to play that game, ain't no chickenin' out."  
"But... I have nothing..."  
-"The price for lyin' is... well, I'm sure these gentlemen will assist in informin' ya. If you don't mind, **I'd like my winnin's, now**."

Crap, she hadn't thought that far. She felt the guards walk over to the back of her chair, ready for a command from the yawning scumbag that sat across, tracing the coins stacked in his mountain of greed. Only one way she could escape. And she _must_. The man nodded to the staff, who began reaching for the leather purse tied to her waist. This was it; mustn't waste a second. She gave a hard kick to the chair and jumped out immediately, bolting in any direction but behind her.  
A scuffle broke out as the two built men snapped the chair into twigs and pushed other customers out of the way, furious and viciously excited, like starved lions at a piece of meat.

She dodged the abandoned chairs, hopping over scattered beverages and fur coats, she didn't know where she ran, and before long she realised the security had blocked off the exit, cornering her in the pool area. They were approaching slow, taking their time to crack their knuckles menacingly and clink their teeth together at her. Aegea felt tears prick at her eyes. It was so horrid, intimidating. With each step they took, she took an extra three back until there was nowhere to go. That was, before a glimmer of hope blinded her for a second. The reflection of a silver roof decoration twinkled through the open window, and as the two men realised what she was thinking and rushed to the criminal, she was already leaping through the cold air.


	4. Ol' Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The traveller wakes up on a ship to discover some frightening news and make new allies with a Captain and his right hand, Malcolm Graves. Crew antics ensue, and the Captain may have more than hospitality on his mind.

The creature snuck and lurked beneath the ship, clinging onto the wood with a huge knifelike weapon. as it pulled the blade, a hole in the wood began to absorb the seawater, the very same one the creature breathed. Amused, it proceeded its climb further up the ship's starboard, fingers like claws, digging into the base materials of the vessel. Finally, it had reached the deck, very quietly creeping down to the Captain's cabin, sheltered in the supernatural clouds of mist that strangely descended upon the waters. Lanterns did very little to illuminate the being creaking the door open and sliding in, a Captain, marked by an exquisite feather hat, clearly snug and snoring in his hammock.

With a pained grunt, Aegea managed to gulp down some precious air. It felt amazing as soon as she turned to her side and coughed the remains of the salty water out, savouring the oxygen in free lungs. Somebody gasped in surprise next to her, followed by a thump of footsteps as they presumably rushed away. Too exhausted to fully open her eyes, she fell back onto the soft fabric she lay on, actually sensing a pillow and uncomfortably wet but pleasantly hot blankets. Soon enough, the scattering footsteps returned, followed by a pair of much heavier ones.  
"She's breathin' boss." a squeaky voice informed.  
-"Thank the mother serpent... little lady?" a gruffer, huskier voice gave her strength to peel her eyelids open. Although blurry, she could identify the outline of a tall, broad man with a messy moustache that matched his hair. It all looked like one big dot of brown among the red cloak. He brought a strange smell of overseas tobacco and musky sweat which amplified as he seemed to lean down next to her ear, gently muttering,  
"Little lady, you're alright. You're safe with us, we ain't gonna bother ya 'till you're better." It felt so reassuring, so excellent to hear friendly words she could cry. Having forgotten anything that happened between choking on the dirty water and waking up to the light of a lantern and gently swaying surroundings.  
"Boss, might wanna keep the cigar away, she can hardly breathe clean air."  
-"Right, Yor. I know. Keep watch." the heavy footfalls disappeared with a door creak once again, along with her consciousness. The semi-open eyes slowly reverted to their previous position as another surreal dream began.

"Hah! Ya owe me. Pay up!" those words sent a shockwave through the girl. She jerked up and frantically looked around the room for a sight of a dreaded familiar face of a cheating cardsman. Stunned, she found herself in an antiquely decorated room with swinging chain lanterns and a massive wooden desk in her line of vision. Only two shapes really moved. Aegea squinted, figuring out whether they were friends or foes. But no, that voice was way too high-pitched to belong to someone like the man from the dice house. Her eyes adjusted and the two floating shapes became two men, one extremely short but bearing sailor's clothing, and a larger male with an unmistakeable hat that marked him Captain. They appeared to be in a furious match of cards, stacks of gold coins wobbling with the ship, threatening to collapse and clatter to the floor.  
"Sir!" the pipsqueak voice turned their attention to Aegea, who groggily rubbed her forehead and traced her temples in hopes of relieving the head-splitting pain.

"Finally awake." the bigger man remarked, getting out of his seat. It wasn't the same warm baritone from earlier, a voice that resembled the experience of taking a cold shower in frost season.  
-"Mmhmphh, "  
"Hey, you're closer to life than death. Good thing, right Cap'n?" the annoying shrill voice had gotten too close for comfort, and pierced her brain like a needle.  
"Yor, to the main deck with ye."  
"Sir." pitter-patter footsteps obeyed.

Aegea slowly lifted her unadjusted eyelids in relief, the scraping of wood suggested the remaining man had pulled up a chair, resting on it next to the bed.  
"Miss, now you know we ain't gon hurt ya, " he began, "I am a curious man, juss needta know... for the safety of me crew, " he slowly continued, dragging his question out to the point it annoyed the girl, "What were ye doing miles from the docks?"  
Aegea frowned to herself. Miles? How far had she floated? Was this even real?  
"I mean, don't take tha' the wrong way, but reports tell me ye drifted through Bilgewater's ugliest waters, unscathed?" he scoffed, rubbing his knees as he shifted his weight, "Well, unscathed in a sense that, uh, you ain't in a shark's guts. You a sea-witch by any chance, miss?" he chuckled. Even with blurry vision, she could see a glint of numerous precious metals indented where teeth should be.

"No, I- I don't know how I survived. Honestly, I didn't think I would..." tears bit and poured as her throat tensed up and stung badly.  
-"Now, now, ain't no reason to cry. You're safe aboard Ol' Anne, " the captain daringly reached out and rubbed her shoulder quite affectionately. "You thinkin' of walkin' anytime soon, miss...?"  
"Aegea."  
-"Eh, charmed. Call me Cap'n Fern, I be makin' sure you're treated well, of course."  
"Thank you." was all she could muster before a sharp sting in her belly caused her to fall back in the safety of the pillows.  


After god knows how many hours of rest, Aegea could feel her body slowly regain control of itself. She could bend her fingers, compress her arms and shift her legs to the side of the bed, but most importantly the headache was gone. Thank the deities. She examined herself and realised she was wearing the same attire as the one she wore in the Eyries. The memory brought a sickening lurch to her stomach. She had to change and throw these clothes overboard or burn them, whatever it took to destroy the filth.  
Shakily, she adjusted her weight on both her feet, feeling the gross squelch of the wet boots. Aegea made a mental note to thank the captain for not undressing her unconscious body.

Once the girl felt confident enough in her walk, she'd quietly open the door out to the main deck, shielding her eyes from the sun. As soon as she focused, a dozen pair of eyes were staring back at her, all surprised sailors in the middle of their daily shift. Blushing and embarrassed, the girl jolted back inside and slammed the door, cursing. Though it didn't really seem to make a difference on the others. Through the thin wood and glass, she could hear their energetic chatter and bantering laughter as the crew worked. And it seems they also had fun talking about her little stunt, which just made her even more flustered. A knock came, making the girl jump away from the door. "C-Come in!" she tried to sound confident, but whoever was knocking must've seen though it. 

"Quite the introduction, Miss Aegea." he chuckled, gesturing for the man behind him to follow.  
"Little lady." the second man nodded to her, settling down a heavy chest with a grunt. Aegea recognised the smell of musk and tobacco on him, remembering his pleasant words in her comatose state.  
"Figured you'd need a change of clothes after the journey you had," he gave her a thumbs up and opened the lid of the box.  
"Malcolm here, my right-hand man always knowin' how to please the women, don't ye, Graves scallywag?" the Captain and Malcolm chuckled, jokingly punching the other in the arm.

The traveller couldn't contain her smile; she bowed and said a thousand 'thank you's and the man known as Graves gave as many 'no problem's and 'you're welcome's before both left, encouraging the girl to explore the wardrobe change.

The chest was a pretty one; designed with sea serpents and bones of fish on the sides, accompanied with a lock in the shape of a small crab, which the girl found endearing. Inside was an entirely different world to the dullness of Bilgewater. Glittering dresses and Sapphire tunics shone in the lanterns' light, though from knowing what she does, wearing bright or revealing clothing is not the best tactical decision in this city. Happily opting for tight leather pants rather than a revealing fluffy skirt, a loose white shirt and a jacket that extended to her new boots, the lady cleaned up her tattered hair and lastly grabbed a sash, securing it around her waist. The mirror didn't lie; she looked vigorous, even if it was a budget pirate outfit. Lastly, the old clothes were tossed through the window, and Aegea frowned as the ship put distance between the floating fabric.  
'Goodbye forever', she smirked.

The sun had danced around the horizon for quite some time now, rays sparkling and reflecting off the still water. It was unnaturally clear, she heard the gossip of the sailors who happened to pass by the Captain's cabin. Whether good or bad, the word that a woman was rescued and was recovering in the captain's chambers stirred up conversations and speculation among the crew, much to Aegea's embarrassment, knowing she'd have to face them. Graves had knocked several minutes ago to inform her dinner was ready, and it would be good for her health to eat a little. The girl agreed, not wanting to spend the rest of her days bedridden and taken care of like a baby. So now was a matter of sewing up a story the sailors, Captain Fern and Graves would all buy, rather than reveal she might be a new criminal with a possible bounty on her head.

So when a sweet, alluring smell of a broth permeated the air, Aegea carefully stepped out, almost colliding with a passing-by Graves. She jumped, exhaling as she realised who she was looking at.  
"Pheww... evenin', Graves."  
-"Evenin' indeed, little lady. Ready to be introduced to the crew?" he nudged her a little, directing her attention at the circle of about 20 sailors all chatting with bowlfuls of food, all of them seemingly going silent as they noticed the female's presence. Fern stood up from the barrel and announced,  
"Gents, this' Miss Aegea, our own sea-witch" he chortled, "I want ye all to take example, 'n ye will all survive at seas yeselves."  
"An' I don't wanna see no one try their chances with 'er, got it?" Graves added in between puffs of his cigar, pointing a thick finger gun at the rest of the crew, who chuckled in return. A few of the men waved at her, she nodded back. She felt comfortable enough to join, after all, hunger is an unpleasant beast.


	5. Rum and Missing Captains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegea explores the kitchen of Ol' Anne, finding out more about her crew and befriending the young cook. Captain Fern looks a little suspicious.  
> Featuring a tale inspired by "Then, teeth." & Mazier by Riot games.

Aegea quietly munched away at the stewed vegetables, eyes following the speaking crewmate. Bowl in hand, he tried to tell his story without spilling too much of the contents, but it wouldn't quite have the same effect if he hadn't showered a fellow mate in the soup. Behind her serving, the girl giggled as they duked it out over a food stain. Graves' laugh boomed alongside her as Captain Fern stepped up,  
"Alrigh', now. Sea's calm this here night, an' the sun rises in a couple hours. No time wasted, ye!" he pointed to the previously brawling mates, who nodded yet proceeded to kick each other's shins on the way to the crew's quarters like bitter children.  
Malcolm briefly turned to her, setting his finished meal aside, face ruddy from the firepit and hot stew.  
"Better now, little lady?"  
Through sips of warm broth, she grinned.  
"Mmhm." He nodded and stood up, waving to the Captain retreating to the forecastle of the vessel. And then Graves' huge back was swallowed by the dark as the crew extinguished the ship's lanterns on their way to the hammocks.

Almost all the men had left, but for one. His messy, curly hair shielding his eyes, and the embers from the dying pit shading his skin a cinnamon brown. The boy scurried to pick up all the remaining dishes, stopping at her side.  
"Oh. I can help, " she offered, standing up.  
"I'm quite used to it, no need, " the boy's slappy accent remarked, "but if you don't have anything better to do..."  
Straining, he halved the mountain of plates and with a sigh of relief handed it to her. They were a bit icky and obviously had some small remains of the contents, but she wasn't one to complain - doing anything other than being alone with her thoughts was amazing.

The boy motioned her to follow; taking her to the corner of the brig, where wooden planks were tied to form counters at knee height, a metal washbasin and chests bearing supplies. A scanty makeshift kitchen, where he apparently worked.  
The two discarded their burden into the washbasin and temporarily sat cross-legged, resting.

In the dim candlelight, she could see him much closer now. Baggy sailor's shirt and a sash that tied his slack pants to his body. Upon the linen canvas of the shirt, many stains of various colours stood out, seemingly like an apron.  
"You cook?"  
"Mmh, what's it to ya?"  
"Just... it was really good. What you made."  
"Thanks, " the boy ruffled his hair in pride, resting his elbow on the counter behind him. After receiving the compliment, a newfound curiosity sparkles in his single illuminated eye, "what'll I call ya?"  
"Aegea. And you?"  
"Ted. Ol' Anne's one and only chef, and... artist." he grinned, and the lady was surprised to see teeth well-taken care of, full with enamel. Ted pointed to his left, where scribbled on the inner walls of the brig small scratches depicting dolphins, apples and golden krakens.

"Tell me, then. How'd you end up aboard? The Cap'ns good at keepin' things hush-hush. Never took a woman on board for no reason, tho."  
Aegea cringed a little. This was the part she had to make up, but at least she wasn't in a large crowd. It was just some mate - but a mate that could let his tongue loose.  
"I fell off... at the docks-"  
"Damn, the slaughter docks? Jeeeez, " Ted seemed shocked and excited, running a hand through his hair as the eye ran around the ceiling drawings of fish, processing, "always wanted to see what it's like, ya know? Maybe even sell a beast, those brutes cost a fortune..." he trailed off, imagining the krakens on the walls in his itching fingers,  
"Uh, yeah, well, I fell, and drifted out, then Captain Fern saw me, I think. Didn't know too much."  
Ted chuckled, darkly.  
"Lucky damsel. Imagine a huuge fish outta nowhere, " the boy pressed his palms together, forming a mouth full off teeth-fingers, "an' it CLAMPS down on ya." his hands followed the action, making Aegea picture an extremely grotesque scene as he laughed again.  
"Good night, Ae, don't lettha seafood bite, yea?" Ted rose to his feet in moments, ducking past some dangling rope, lightly swinging off it and waving before disappearing into his own hammock-bed.

The traveller winced at those words. Okay, sure, fish in Bilgewater weren't typically friendly, she knew that much.  
She quietly ascended to the main deck, wandering over to peer into dark waters below. Almost half-expecting something to jump out and drag her to the bottom. 'What a horrifying thought,' she admitted, before even worse memories poured into her head, gushing to her heart like ice. She remembered her mare, fastened to the posts of the Demon's Dance Dice House, probably taken or traded for gold, remembering how she didn't get a chance to treat her, brush her. It was so selfish to run back then... Biting back tears, she gripped the rails, fingers scraping the wood as the hair fell into her face.  
The lady sniffed. It wasn't over. Of course, she would return to her beloved friend. After all, it was the only reminder of her old Demacian life. That and... "Oh," her purse was gone. Must've fallen off.  
'Just my luck,' she rubbed her temples and retreated to the captain's chambers, ready for a night of tossing and turning.

"God... damn... seagulls..." Aegea whimpered, not entirely content with her wakers. Through the circular windows, the sun barely shone over the horizon, black-winged shapes darting past in search of fish among shrill bird cries. The crew of Ol' Anne seemed to be perfectly fine with it, as shadows of the mates also bustled outside the cabin door. Groaning, she turned to her stomach, lifting herself up and brushing the frizzy hair in place. The salt-filled air really did a number on the otherwise clean curls, but she'd happily wait until the ship got to Bilgewater. Then she could at least see about renting a room.

Captain Fern and Ted met her outside, where the main deck was occupied by hardworking sailors, fastening the mast and polishing Ol' Anne's wooden floors.  
"Miss Aegea." Fern nodded, Ted waved. She looked at the pair questioningly, and Fern motioned to Ted.  
"You don't mind helpin' Ted out in tha' cookin'?"

-

A few minutes later, she found herself in the dimly lit brig, despite the sun-drenched deck above them. Ted had passed her a jagged kitchen knife to slice an unusually fresh chicken breast, while he diced some aged-looking onion. The boy worked hard, seemingly reciting the instructions from memory. Aegea, unfortunately, obliged to listen to his informative grunts about how cinnamon tastes better than nutmeg as he finally decided to enlighten her in the next step.

"Alright, so, " he skirmishes the meat and onion in a pot, "y'wanna add in broombuds 'n mushrooms. Like so, yeah?"  
Some colourful ingredients poured in, tainting the air with a new aroma of oversea spices.  
-"Okay, " the girl nodded, squeezing the lemon handed to her, juice flowing onto oysters and olives skillfully prepped.  
"Well, gotta hurry, it ain't a quick cook!" Ted ushered his annoyed assistant who'd been carefully peeling the potatoes, as instructed, mind you.  
"Next, add peas and..." he scrambled up from his cross-legged position to rush to the pantry, while Aegea quickly dumped the rest of the vegetables. Surely he wouldn't notice if a few were peeled less than others, but she wasn't risking her patience for it.  
Ted came back with a few dozen jars of spices, condiments and an unusually smelly bottle of vinegar, nodding her free of her duties.

With the free time left to spare, she wandered the brig, examining crates and barrels presumably transported for later trade. Surfacing up to the main deck, Aegea noticed with a start that the entirety of the crew was hard at work, practising their daily routine at each station.  
"Oops! Sorry!" she'd stammer as she nearly treaded on the hand of a crewmate scrubbing the floorboards, who looked up at her and shyly waved in response, returning to his activity. Nonetheless embarrassed, she sidestepped the other cleaners, making way past the swinging ropes to the captain's quarters again.  
It was definitely noticeable how out of place she looked, and several heads were definitely turned - the lady could feel their stare before the door barricaded their sight. The pressure made her head spin and lungs tighten, almost as if she was drowning again.  
Exhaling, the girl's attention was stolen with a gentle cough. Graves stood at the captain's desk, collecting a stack of reports and passing her a questioning glance from across the room.  
"Everythin' alright, little lady?"  
-"Yeah, I'm just... done helping Ted. Gonna stay here,"  
"Perfect. An' Captain meant to pass on, " he huffed, stuffing the pile of documents under his armpit, "he'd like t'see ya in the brig this afternoon."

But Graves didn't look too pleased about what he just said. With a fast nod, he exited with the ashes of his cigar, while Aegea leaned against the captain's desk for support, examining the rising and falling tides through the circular window and wondered; just how far had she floated?  
Her hand felt a soft touch of paper, and in her complete boredom, she read trade reports, rewards and types of seafood sold in Bilgewater for silver serpents. Leaning against her palm as she sat in the comfy chair, it didn't take long to drowse off with the atmosphere of the softly swaying ship.

Peeling her eyelids open once more and steadying her step, Aegea leapt out of the chair. The sky beyond the cabin window had swirled a dark purple by that point, earning herself a slap to the forehead. Swallowing air in shame, the girl opened the door to the headquarters, peeking out at the usual scene. The crew, captain and his right hand seated in a circle around the firepit, each enjoying the meal. More for the fear of looking ungrateful rather than actual hunger, she strode over and gathered her spirit.  
As the bootsteps approached, the sailors turned in her direction with interest.  
"I'm sorry, I'd slept too much, " she paused, taking space between Graves and another man - tough, built for handling weight - and apologetically shrugged to Fern. -"No problem, little lady." Graves rumbled in between sips of his alcohol. Behind his bushy moustache, she could distinguish a smile.  
She looked at Fern - who held an annoyed grimace - bowing her head a little. "I- I forgot about that, didn't-" But in her peripheral, Graves cut her off with a finger to his lips, only holding them there for only a second, and she knew to shut up. "At least you ain't dead," Ted remarked, passing the bowl of whatever dish they made earlier in a semi-circle to her.  
Quiet gossip spread, but eventually was replaced by the merry conversation and laughter she'd been used to since yesterday's meal. Ted made it an essential point to introduce her to the crew, and even though they looked like they'd prefer to eat, each of them at the very least nodded and introduced themselves. Most of the men with low, strong voices, like Graves', and some were younger and less confident as they stammered a greeting.  
The more Aegea listened, the more she began to feel included. One of the janitors turned, reciting an old story that happened years ago, poking fun at his crewmates. And before they knew it, another drunken brawl with booming laughter emerged as the men knocked each other on the arms, all in good fun.

A few minutes later, Captain Fern stood, Ted rushing to take his plate twice as quick.  
"Gents, "he booms, "lady. Good work today. Ain't no better rest than after a hard one."  
-"Aye, " they cheered, whooping as the last of the feast was emptied from pots and yawns became contagious.  
The captain and his assistant left, but none of the sailors had gone yet. Aegea eyed their empty foodware and questioned the situation.  
"He gone?"  
"Think so, go get it!" hushed whispers emanated alongside the cracking of the fire.  
Confused, the girl glanced to Ted, who'd come racing back with two transparent jugs in hand, eyes flaming with excitement.  
"Two!" the boy exclaimed, passing the items for everyone to see.

"What's this?" she looked over to examine the label better, a wild, red-haired woman on the sticker was brandishing two pistols.  
-"She that new?" the sailor opposite her snorted, taking out the cork as his erratic eyes focused completely on the bottle in hand.  
"'tis Rapture, " Ted answered, faking a posh accent and snorting with the rest of the sailors,  
-"Miss Fortune's private stock. Methinks Cap'ns got a bit too much for himself, init lads?"  
Hushed chuckles of agreement accompanied the glugging sounds of the rum as the crew took a swig and passed it along. Slightly frowning at the gig, Aegea promised herself only a sip would do. Her insides were barely capable of taking in normal food, let alone unfamiliar liquor. Eventually, Ted plopped into a seat next to her. His youthful hands wasted no time soaking up a quarter of the bottle before the girl winced, unsettled at the lack of... well, anyone interrupting him. They seemed preoccupied in waiting for their turn of the drink, making her question the addictiveness of the liquid.  
Ted grinned stupidly, half-wavering as he handed her the jug. Unsure of its strength or what to expect, Aegea levelled the container with her lips and carefully swallowed once.  
As quiet as it's possible to cheer, they did it. Without alerting the Captain or Graves, Ted whisper-screamed an encouragement and clapped. The girl sputtered and choked, the taste overwhelming her. Like strong Demacian ale but with sweet peppers and hot cinnamon. 'They were right, ' she admitted between clearing her throat into her sleeve - the taste was great if she could get used to it.  
Looking up from hacking as noiselessly as humanly possible, the men were unfazed, but looked to her in approval. Ted nudged her, swaying as if already drunk.  
"You're in, Ae."  
-"In... what?"  
"Just... watch, " Ted's words slurred and he slumped and leaning against the mast as he watched the fire with half-lidded eyes.

"Alright, this one's you ain't heard, " she overheard the men discussing, alcohol on their breath and satisfaction in the air, "cuz I got it in Port Annwn,"  
The sailors encouraged him to continue, and he dramatically leaned over the low fire, embers illuminating up his face in an ominous angle.  
Everyone's gone silent, and against her better judgement, the alcohol-tainted Aegea chose to stay and listen to his thick cockney accent - as did the rest of the people.  
"Word goes 'nother captain gone missing. An' his ship, too. How do I know? I recognise Mazier. She'd told me, 'Ain't nowhere to go for krakens but the seas' - only their cap'n was no generous man. Gave 'em shit for paychecks, he did.  
One day, Mazier says, the crew sailed out for a huge catch, bound to bring at least a dozen krakens to each member of the crew. Imagine, " the man shuffled his knees and grabbed a bottle of Rapture, refilling on the liquid courage to continue the tale, "a creature so big, you'd need two ships just to carry the bugger to the Docks.  
Aye, I'd be scared too, an' ya know me! Anyways, Mazier and 'er captain sailed with this one lad, a fresh face on the docks, but he's been bringin' bare fortune with that harpoon of his. And he's bloody good too.  
The captain says, 'Let 'im go on a lifeline, the lad gets us the fish.'  
Cast a crewmate overboard into the sea creature's mouth, he said!"  
the man wheezed, shuddering. Aegea shifted in her seat and persisted on hearing, tightened to the story.  
"So imagine this, yeah? Strongest beast ev'n Gangplank couldn't catch, an' you gotta be thrown into its mouth... Ay ya yai. The harpooner agreed, dunno why, the poor lad's probably suicidal from the pay. Wouldn't judge 'im. Mazier has to watch his lifeline. An' she says, when 'e jumped, she felt... scared, dread. Understandable, init?  
But they ain't even seen the fish. Yet the cap'n knew it was below the ship. She watched him swim under, swim deeper, 'n suddenly, outta nowhere two huge orbs spark up. We ain't talkin' fireflies - barrels of yellow beneath the waves, watching the poor sailor. But he ain't decided to stop, he swam lower 'n before she knew it, Mazier describes the beast roared an' its mouth looked like a hell of blades.  
The crew felt the ship tremble an' creak. The captain musta known what was happenin', 'cause he ordered the line **cut**. Mazier ain't wanted to let go of their lucky guy, but... cap'n orders.  
They all watched him get eaten, and it - the beast - left the ship alone. Like it needed a sacrifice.  
Mazier tells me another beast woke up that day. Ain't seen her since."

The crowd went silent.  
Ted's snoring filled the silence as the sailors processed the last sentences, shaking their heads and shuffling to the brig.  
Feeling chilly, not particularly from the story, Aegea pushed the kid awake. Better in a hammock than out in the open.  
"Pfhfghhgt!" he snorted loudly, started as she gently shook him.  
-"Shh. Sorry, Te-"  
"Wait, Yor, we needta... y'know." he urgently tugged at the sleeve of another mate, who snapped his fingers as if remembering something.  
"Right. Aegea, right?" she nodded in response as Ted blundered towards his lodgings. This was the same squeaky yet grandfather voice that she'd heard in her first days aboard, but in the dark haze and tipsy state she couldn't make out much of the features on the spot.  
"Ted tells me you can be trusted, so here goes. We don' want ya near the brig tomorrow night, you got it?  
The crew all agreed this is for the best, an' Fern is gonna get a taste of his own medicine - tomorrow is perfect. Talk to me if ya want in on it."

She almost wanted to believe this was a bad dream, and it worked. As soon as her intoxicated head hit the pillow in the captain's quarters, the empty dark room spun and she drifted despite sleeping half the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so lore-heavy it may as well be a separate book


	6. Off the Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A creepy fog is crawling closer to the ship, cold showers and soggy breakfasts ruin moods.  
> And yordles offering mutiny.

Quietly, the ship lulled the inhabitants into a deep sleep. In the captain's quarters, the girl stirred, barely managing to open her eyelids. Not that she saw much, it was so extremely dark and candleless. She lay back, back of her hand resting atop the aching forehead, listening to groaning wood and tame waves pushing against the sides of the vessel. Her nose wrinkled, catching a scent of something horrid - likely rotting seaweed through the open window, or a dead fish thumping against the side of Ol' Anne. Quietly grunting as she leaned against her elbows, she was surprised to see the circular, unfocused glint of a window closed and locked. Among the croaking of timber, another sound surfaced. A sound that instantly killed any signs of drowsiness. Breathing.

It was there, definitely. Ragged, sloppy, inhaling and exhaling in close sync with the waves. She would've missed it if not for her hyperalert state, eyeing something just in her peripheral. A dark shape pressed against the wall in the corner of the room. Someone hunching, barely noticeable, staying low and true to the dark floor. Frozen in horror, she wouldn't think that someone from Fern's crew would dare anything of the sort. But there was absolutely someone in the room with her. How long had they been there? She sat up, pushing the blanket away yet not wanting to stand.

More meekly rather than confident, she called,  
"Get out... now!"  
Silence. It was as if they ignored her. The unsettling silhouette remained in place, and the hairs standing up on the back of her neck confirmed it was watching her. Okay, she just needed to get something to fend off any danger. At least get a look at the guy.  
Slowly, her hand inched towards the drawer, fingers frantically closing around the handle and ripping it open. She grabbed the match and lit it instantly, sharing the fire with the previously extinguished candle. Aegea could hear her pulse swelling in her head as she shone it towards the corner, assuming he'd try stop her by now but,

no-one was there.  
Releasing a breath Aegea didn't know she was holding, the girl timidly slid out of bed, using as much of her shirt as possible to cover herself down to the knees, in case she wasn't insane and someone really was watching her sleep. The night candle did little to provide actual light, but the girl wandered around the room, warily checking under the desk, behind chests and nearly yelping at the sudden sound outside her window; a splash, quick and quiet but audible to the terrified lady. She waved her fingers in a prayer motion to the Winged One, asking for protection against whatever was looming by the ship's side. The frantic heartbeat subsided, and Aegea thought it was safe to return under the sheets, her dreams filled with thoughts of strange types of fish that could be roaming the sea right then. 

The morning after resulted in a much-predicted headache and grumpy nods of greeting to the crewmates.  
Aegea whined, pinching her eyes as she recalled the taste of Rapture, Miss Fortune's hangover potion. Captain Fern emerged from the brig, seemingly unaffected by slapping droplets and alcohol aftertaste. Looking full of himself, he sauntered over to Aegea's side and leaned his elbows on his knees. Fern yawned next to her, and the collected water in the fold of his captain's hat poured a hefty amount onto Aegea's breakfast, making it as soggy as her mood. For once he didn't attempt to get too close to her leg nor shoulder.  
"'tis fine weather." he chortled at her unimpressed look. Choosing to scavenge the still consumable part of the dried jerky. The ship rocked twice as hard as it did the night before, and Aegea felt sure that fog couldn't appear overnight; thick and foreboding. She frowned, tearing the meat between her teeth. At this rate, icy rain was bound to pour and she could not imagine getting used to working in those conditions.

After, Graves took her around just to make sure she didn't die of boredom staring out the window in the captain's quarters. Though Aegea suspected it was his odd determination to keep her and Fern separated. They passed sailors fastening ropes and hoistening the sails with audible huffs and grunts. Each of them nodded and called a greeting as the captain's right-hand man strolled by, with Aegea trotting behind. Then the pair stopped by the ledge, Graves attempting to light his fat cigar hopelessly - each time the flame would hiss and become black.  
"So, sir?" Aegea began, examining the lifeless sky, "how far are we?"  
-"Juss' Graves, little lady." he shuddered, wrapping his cloak tighter, "Ain't nobody wanna sail in this weather. We best be off waitin'."  
Aegea nodded in understanding, twisting a brown lock of her hair between thin fingers. The floorboards creaked loud as they ascended some stairs, the bigger man exchanging a few quiet words with Ol' Anne's helmsman, whose expression almost matched the dull weather. He clutched the wheel tighter and muttered something back. Aegea rubbed her palms together, seeking warmth from the friction. Leaving the two crewmates to discuss whatever topic was at hand, she wandered over to the keel of the vessel, glancing down at the colourless, dark waters shoving against the stern. There was a metallic green glint below the crashing seafoam. Fish, likely. Though Aegea questioned the sanity of any fish that swam so close to a massive ship. Leaning half her body across the ledge, she squinted through the fog to get a closer look.

The glint went from a long shape into a narrow one, the end of it getting lost in the dark of the depths until Aegea realised it was pointy, and it wasn't small - it was aiming.

"Little lady!" Graves grabbed her shoulder as if he was worried she'd jump. Aegea wheeled around in confusion and immediately whipped her head back towards the water, where the emerald object pointed at her. It'd gone. Graves waved her over to follow, the conversation between crewmates done. As she passed the helmsman, he spoke a quick "Miss" and gave her a knowing look. It was the crewmate from yesterday, the elderly sailor that knew Mazier and told her tale over rum. He averted his gaze while she walked right after she recognised him. 

"Man says there ain't no point in travelling in the mist. You see this?" Graves leaned over the railing and waved his gloved hand around, in the cloud-like mist. Aegea winced.  
It indicated two things.  
One, they were not going to make progress for goddess knows how long, and two, the mist was so close, it was at arm's length. Wrapping around the ship like a cocoon.

"Last time I was in Bilgewater, it was clear," her voice rose in optimism," sunny, even. Hope it's that way then."  
-"Yeah, well, Bilgewater's got a ton worse things hidden, " he took a puff from the soggy cigar and his bushy eyebrows furrowed, "dealers, an example. Can't trust card players, you hear me?"  
'A little late...' she thought bitterly, reminded of what she'd lost when Aegea jumped that height. Her horse, the purse, maybe even a chance at a peaceful life, albeit among fish markets.  
Graves continued, tone suddenly unusually wild for his composure.  
-"An' you know the worst part? They take what they wanna, " _a worryingly long pull from his cigar,_ "then the trickster leaves ya, high 'n dry. Can't trust 'em."  
Amused, Aegea raised her eyebrows, still not looking at Graves. Her mind was elsewhere, fluttering back to yesterday night, remembering as many details as she could. Maybe the man complaining about card tricks next to her could give the tiniest clue to just what happened.

"Sir, Graves, sir!" Ted sputtered, stumbling through the milky fog and almost appearing out of nowhere. The young boy gestured towards the forecastle and panted as if exhausted,  
"Um, Cap'n calls Aegea."  
-"Does he, now? What's the goon up to..." Graves muttered more to himself, as if he was also lost in thought, "Little lady, Ted'll help ya. Lunch's in a minute, ain't it, sailor?" He patted the teen's afro hair and headed towards where Ted just came running from. Aegea glanced to the boy, confused.

"What's the captain-"

"We gotta go, c'mon, it's huge. Tonight!" he grabbed her hand, none-too-gently and dragged her down to the brig. It wasn't well-lit, considering the absence of sunlight. The familiar kitchen was suddenly filled with a dozen eyes, all staring directly at her.  
With a startled gasp, Aegea realised at least half the crew was crouched around Ted's kitchen, all looking excited, hushing each other. Shyly, she slid down the steps and joined Ted near the pot.  
"Aegea, is it? Hmm, sounds like foreign fae's songs..." a familiar squeaky voice announced itself from the farthest wall. A creature, no taller than Ted emerged from the huddled sailors. He was covered in fur, yet stood on his hind legs and wore baggy red pants. Only one yellow eye focused on her, while the other lolled in its socket randomly. At his small fanged mouth, the fur grew into a moustache that resembled whiskers. They bounced as he spoke next. "Ted 'ere tells me you ain't like _them_. It'sa quality we need t'see more." -"I-uhm, sorry?" she stuttered, not quite able to read a mutual emotion in the room. Excitement, impatience.

"No, Yor, you gotta tell her the **plan!** " the young sailor beside her whisper-yelled at the elder. The yordle sighed, shook his head and gestured towards Ted.  
"Really?" he exclaimed, turning to Aegea with such vigour and eagerness, she almost thought he was announcing a birthday party. "The plan is, we take those barrels, " Ted's skinny hand waved in the direction of countless barrels and boxes full of trade supplies, "an' we take the gold, an' the boats, "he listed, lowering a finger at each, "so I said, since you ain't in cahoots with Fern, you can join us, an' we dip!" His childish grin unsettled her, she frowned and redirected her attention to the white-bearded creature.  
-"Why are you taking the barrels?" Do you think Fern will let you?"

The hysterical wheezing and chortles almost hurt her pride, as if she'd asked the dumbest thing. Even Ted snorted.  
"We ain't **asking**. That captain - is bad news - he don't know how to trade good labour for good gold, and he's keeping it all for hisself," a sailor grunted, clenching his fists. Yor waved the crew silent, "So I - **WE** thought, it's time the crew got a fair share of what's comin' round."  
His little speech was followed up by jeers and murmurs of agreement. Aegea glanced to the floor, recycling the information in her head. "I hear..." Yor's hushed voice called, still loud for everybody present to hear, "you gots a lot more reason to hate him than us, miss." Furrowing her eyebrows, she looked up at him questioningly. "After all, the things he **says** about a frail lady such as yourself." Aegea's throat stiffened. Her suspicions had just been confirmed true. Fern's odd behaviour, the toothy grins, and Graves. How he always looked disgusted at the captain. Aegea's own nails dug into her palm as she frowned at the realisation. "So we, us all, is askin', you in or you out?"

Ted nudged her, the boy's curly hair bouncing in her peripheral. Another one of the sailors spoke up,  
"Now, most here are farmers' bastards, but we ain't stupid. Wher'ver you from, miss, you'd be smarter to be on the winning side."  
More agreement, even Yor's stiff white whiskers shook as he spoke,  
"Graves an' Fern are two men, we got a dozen. Help you, you help us. Miss?" he got closer to her head, momentarily, "After all, if I weren't there, would you still be in those wet clothes?"

Cold shivers travelled from her brain to her toes at his words. Bile itched in her throat. Yor stood back and extended a small furry hand with five dark pads, like a cat's. "Okay." 

Cheers rang in the crowded brig and the volume almost annoyed her. The sailors went back to their respective positions, thudding her on the shoulder and grinning. Eventually, Ted and Aegea were alone in the kitchen.  
"Oh, Kayle's might...." she whimpered, curling into a ball "Made a good choice, promise ya, " Ted flashed his shiny grin again, immediately getting to work on the next feast. The girl leaned against the wall and watched him work for a bit, letting what the men said to run through her head. But the more she did, the harder an icy grip tightened on her insides, squeezing them.  


Something small yet heavy collided with her boot, and she almost jumped away at the sight. A silver pistol, along with an attached pouch of what could only be bullets rolled away from her. The snowy yordle stood at the stairs, empty holster hidden within his small shoe.  
"Keep it, Miss Aegea. We'll trust ya tonight."  
-"O-oh, tonight?!" was all she could muster in shock.

"So are you gonna help or....?" Ted drawled out, extending the 'r' until Aegea rolled her eyes and joined him at the kitchen. The pistol was fairly small and easily fit in her human hand, but if things go awry she still hoped she wouldn't have to use it. She and Ted peeled the golden-brown skin until the girl had to question the sheer amount there was to do. Then Ted snorted suddenly, "By the way, don't stare at Yor like that, he gets nervous, ya know?" -"Wh- like what?" she bit the inner wall of her cheek in thought.  
"I dunno, it's like when you look at him, you look at his neck, not his head like the rest of us." "But he's just that short! Can't you see his, er, fur?" Aegea retorted, confused. "Nope. Only hair he gots is his beard." Ted remarked dismissively, then hopped back to examine the pans. "Tonight Yor says we celebrate, so I should make something big for us, you know?"  
-"Ah, right, tonight, " Aegea cleared her throat, focusing on the small blade and somewhat unnaturally soft vegetables in their hands.  
"Think of all the gold!" Ted exclaimed in a sing-song voice, slicing seafood that smelled inviting.  
They dumped the ingredients in and the young boy casually waved her off, reminding her to hide the silver weapon.  


The familiar green walls of the captain's quarters greeted her. The weather really didn't help elevate the already poor mood the girl was in, so what better to do than explore?  
Aegea remembered the corner where the shape hid prior, feeling around in case there was a sort of secret entrance in the walls. Patchy green wallpaper, slight signs of mould and cracks in the hardwood, but definitely no secrets.  
'Then it made no sense, ' the lady pondered, plopping down into the sturdy chair. She bit her thumb and stared out the transparent window, eyes meeting only dark greys and black.


	7. [7] Last Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mutiny night is tonight, and someone gets caught in the crossfire.

Hours passed in an uneasy atmosphere. Cloudy fog tapping at the windows and seeping in from under the door, uncanny yells from a crewmate sometimes interrupted the waning waves and distant thunder. Under the candlelight and the protection of a blanket, (Y/N) examined many maps and water-damaged books written in Bilgewater; a language she wasn't too fluent in. The white wharf and slaughter docks had an extremely unsettling backstory, according to one of the documents. Destroyed by Noxus and the shadow isles' horrors alike, it was no wonder the capital was renamed to 'Rat Town'. Though the raised platforms of the Eyries overlooked the island of Bilgewater, the girl did not 

The fog's become darker, like a pool of squid's ink, shifting and warping in the girl's peripheral. It should be time now. Now is the chance.

Bravely downing the last drops of her ale, she grabbed an old cloak and ventured out, past the safety of the captain's cabin. Immediately, gusts of wind bashed her, lashing waves of rainfall all hatefully spitting at the running girl. Navigating the main deck in complete darkness and nothing but the hiss of rain was tedious. But she located the brig after much stumbling and wincing at the icy weather. People below stayed huddled, quietly chattering and laughing often to break the howling wind on the swaying ship. (Y/N) peeled the sogged cloak off, tossing the fabric aside and joining Ted along with the others.

They greeted her with excited and cheery expressions which seemed so fabricated, so exaggerated she wondered how the Captain could sit there, happily chugging the spicy alcohol. But he did, with Graves and their burly voices did little to drown out the crashes of thunder outside the windows. Ted shoved her a bunch of food that seemed extremely overcooked and soggy from the overwhelming storm, but it was better than drowning. She sucked it up and silently ate while the crew all joked and attempted to cheer each other up. In their quiet voices, the ship creaked and swayed like a crib. Oftentimes (Y/N) suspected she heard a form of scratching at the underside of the vessel, but then again it was likely her imagination. After all, the worry and complete anxiety she felt whenever Yor would tilt his head to glance at her boot - no doubt checking for the pistol she must've brought - it only indicated that, indeed, the mutiny was to happen tonight.

Captain Fern said little that evening, though making an occasional joke, his face was half-obscured by the goblet of rum almost every time the girl glanced at him. Graves didn't look too good either, releasing long puffs of smoke as his eyes warily scanned the brig. A few hours past the waterlogged dinner, Ted yawned. A few mates followed, wrapping themselves tighter in whatever material they had. It wasn't safe to go up to the headquarters, not in this weather. The girl hugged her knees, head leaning against a wooden pole as the last light from the lantern began flickering.

It turns out the crew and the captain had slept fairly close. Due to (Y/N) staying in his cabin, Fern had obliged to sleep in a hammock like his crew, alongside Graves. So when he turned to leave, handing the empty goblet to the obviously pretending "tired" Ted, Yor's singular golden eye observed the very back he was going to stab. (Y/N) reached for her pistol, goosebumps long agitating the exposed arms and forearms of the girl. The crew needed no communication as Fern drew a curtain in the corner where his sleeping accommodation was, they all scattered like rats found in a basement. Some scurried towards supplies, grabbing bottles of Miss Fortune's godforsaken rum, expired vegetables and soggy jerky, others used the howling wind to mask the creaking of the Captain's chest, hissing at each other over who gets what shiny gemstone. They all pocketed as much as they could in the end anyway. (Y/N) stretched her jaw and neck, tired of sitting in the same position. But it was a good one. With her back to the wall, she could observe the scum Fern called crew pillage his own ship and drag it up towards the main deck, shoved into lifeboats. In the midst of the mates' looting, the lantern had finally died out, leaving the men and her in the almost complete dark. Curses were whispered and Yor's unnaturally squeaky voice commanded them to scurry faster, his motivating words of encouragement being that they won't die in a small storm.

She tiptoed towards the white sheet that blocked Fern's hammock off from the rest of the room and slipped in, listening out for any signs of Ted scurrying by just in case. (Y/N) shook the old man, frantically whispering trigger words that could wake him up. She could go on for at least another minute if an extremely powerful roar hadn't stolen everyone's attention. It sounded like Graves.

In horror, the hooded girl rushed after the sailors, up to the main deck where the man stood, pointing his large gun at the ex-crewmates of Ol' Anne. The dying orange light from his cigar lit up his infuriated face before it was quickly extinguished. They rushed on him like ants on a rotten seagull, some flying off as thick bullets ripped through their bodies with yelps of pain, Graves staggering on the impact of Destiny's kick. The dark pile of a commotion stirring ever greater as more shapes came to the mutineers' aid. With a vulgar roar, Graves pounded anywhere his enormous swinging arms could reach, crunching jaws and stomping on a ribcage with his boot, the additional weight of the rodents around him dealing a significant lot more damage.

Something garbled to her left, and in shock, the girl jumped, taking a few steps backwards to search for the source. However, the nearest lantern only revealed a crawling outline of captain Fern in his deep night-sky satin nightwear. A trail of black followed his shaking body all the way from the brig. She dropped to her knees, intaking a sharp breath as the hands that turned Fern on his back came off glistening red. The nightwear wouldn't be this dark if every inch of it didn't seem sogged with the outpouring wound in Fern's heaving chest.  
"Yoo fhats!" he suddenly spat, awkwardly swinging at her trembling head. He missed and instead collided his knuckles in the timber of the floor, wheezing and hacking up blood into her face. (Y/N) felt bile rising to her throat as a few drips slid off her cheek and washed away in the rain.  
"Cap-captain! You're hurt!" she informed him, reluctantly leaning lower to his ear. This time he'd really knocked her.

White dots flashed across her vision while she staggered from her knees to her rear, sliding away from his shifting body, rubbing at the spot where a huge fist swung to deal an impressive amount of injury for a man in his state.  
"Fuukin SCUum!" he wavered, trying to get on his feet like an overturned tortoise.  
"Good fer nootin'..... I'll KILL YOO" Fern miraculously got to his hands and knees, catching sight of the cowering girl. His crazy eyes focused on her, and he bellowed like a wounded lion.  
"Treacheroos! FILTHY, YOO- "  
Choking back a scream, (Y/N) pushed away until her back was to the wooden frame of the ship's port. As if possessed by the living dead, Fern dragged his soggy, grotesque figure towards her. A glimmer of silver. Tears poured from her as she screeched, begged him to stop where he was, reminding her name, which all fell on deaf ears.  
"Chu'll know better than steal from _me_!" Fern hissed, lolling his head to one side and blasting a stream of that night's dinner, releasing a horrible copper smell with it. He coughed, and swayed, the barfing having taken a lot of work. (Y/N) held a hand over her nose, sobbing and pleading to no one but the pouring rain, as if the vigorous shaking of her head would end this nightmare. A slippery but firm grip locked onto her ankle, dragging her back from the frame and crashing her head against the floorboards at the force of the pull.  
"Fuukin rat! Ye thievinn slut!" the man convulsed, showering her with another spray of spit and blood. Thunder cracked, relighting her senses. She cried, thrusting out her legs in every direction, striking him off balance. Frantically searching on the slippery floor, she clutched a splinter tight in a shaking hand, creeping towards the captain's quarters. Badly hyperventilating as her heartbeat cut off all noise to her head.

Again a slimy grip pulled her leg. She exclaimed in shock before turning into a shriek of pain. (Y/N) whimpered, squinting through the rain and tears to see her a knife wobbling in her calf, Fern's hand falling off the hilt in satisfaction. He'd rolled over to his back as if his sole mission in life was complete.  
That moment she felt no pain.  
With that knife scraping against the floor, (Y/N) lunged at the ex-captain with a yell, holding the splinter like a last resort. It pierced just under his chin, jerking her hand away from the chunk of wood as if it'd burned her. Fern gagged, hands flopping around him like a fish out of water.

(Y/N) turned her exhausted head around just in time to see the moving human pile stagger and with a dozen cries of surprise, Malcolm Graves along with the sailors fell over the starboard, a deafening _splash_ marking their leave.

"NOOOOO!"

Scream-crying now, (Y/N) watched them fall, unable to get up to her knees. Her entire leg felt numb, and the heart-stopping thunder claps never helped either. Fern's now Iimp body seemed to scare her lungs from working, so she dragged herself, by the floorboards and slippery trail of Fern's diluted blood to where she remembered as safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been away on hiatus, learned a lot & now I have huge plans for this story  
> <3


	8. Hate Cuts Deep and leaves Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegea does not know how to treat a stab wound to the calf. The blood's dried and the sea's calm, but how will she control an entire vessel alone and impaired?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has to be said - I completely abandoned writing and for the longest time could not push myself to write a sentence. So as an update, I know many people are waiting and expect the best from me, but I have many things going on right now and can't afford to divide my attention.
> 
> All stories and upcoming fics are put on hold until Spring-Summer 2021.  
> Thank you

Painfully long hours passed, each minute filled with the howling wind and angry lashing of the rain against the ship's walls. Thunder cracked and echoed in the distance, retreating as if its job has been done. And atop the blankets, the girl lay, whimpering and twitching every so often. Her eyes stared glued to one spot, as her body uncontrollably jerked, signalling there was definitely something wrong with it.

A particularly heavy swing of the ship rolled her backwards, breaking the trance. Although her leg felt numb and head fuzzy, a shred of consciousness held on. Wavering and wheezing as she sat up, she winced at the dark lines and trails of the blood left on the bluish fabric and hammock-bed. The sickening red and smell spread out like an annoying ink spot, the blood quickly becoming cold and dyed the sheets. Groggily, the eyes settled on the source of the red - her own leg. Though it didn't feel like it. And there, wobbling at her every move, sat wedged a knife.

Ice crawled up her spine, reminding of last night's events. With a shaky hand, the girl reached out, carefully seizing the hilt and pulled back.  
A yell of pain drowned out the quieting storm for a second. She stopped removing the blade, hissing and cussing as the pain became very much real, and so did her tears.  
It was unfortunately buried at an angle, nudging against skin and muscle as it left. Blood oozed, but at the disturbance became a flow, and in the little light she had from the dawn in the cabin window, the sight horrified her.  
Hyperventilating, the girl gritted her teeth and slowly ejected it, tossing it on the floor with a _clang_. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, Aegea began to wrap sheets and strips of fabric around the wounded calf. The colour quickly becoming blackish, but having seen so little bloodshed in Demacia, it was all her weak mind could think of. Put pressure, hope for the best.

-

The morning after proved to be a small consolation: the sun crawled across the pale pink sky and chased grey flocks of clouds to the horizon, the sunlight glittering off fish scales and the soggy, red-stained surfaces of Ol' Anne. Looted supply bags left tarnished and abandoned in yesterday's hurricane of events, a lifeless slump already giving in to moisture and heat.

Quiet sobbing emanated from the small cabin at the stern of the ship, accompanied by sharp intakes of breath and shuddering exhales. The girl wiped away tears and snot, but the more she cleaned, the harder she cried. Woken up by a constant presence of deep pain, the realisation of the situation lead to her giving in to turmoil.

She cried about _Alba_ , her horse, either stationed at Demon's Dance to this day, worn and underfed, or worse, taken. Never to see Aegea again. It stung her heart deeply, cherishing racing through the Demacian capital on a mare as stunning as Alba. Palms pushing deeper into her eyes, she cursed herself for leaving the tall white walls of Demacia, for being stupid enough to think a gnarly sore in the thumb of Valoran could solve her problems. She pushed until her eyes hurt and saw white, then slackened, defeated. An old spark from within reminded her of a prayer to the Winged Protector, a plea to cleanse the pain and evils, but frankly she wasn't sure if the gesture of eternal fairness extended past the limits of Demacia. Nevertheless, the memory of angelic swords gave Aegea hope, pride, the urge to go on. She gritted her teeth and sat up, staring past the glass of the door with a determined frown.

The fresh air did wonders to her face, skin and hair, which laid frizzy and disorganised like a ball of brown sea-grass. The breeze caressed her cheek, making the loose sails flap lazily. Leaning against the doorframe one-legged, Aegea noticed the ship was moving, but rather slowly as the waves shifted against the walls aimlessly. She stuck her head out as far as her support would let, looking left and right.  
All that she saw was wide, open sea with occasional waves. 'Floated to gods-know-where,' she admitted, less terrified, more solemn. Feeling dizziness creep up to cloud her vision, she limped back to the bed, dropping into the sheets. The leg stung so gods-damned badly.


End file.
